Russell & Clara Stover

Valentin'es Day is one week away. Romance is in the air… and has littered store shelves for weeks. Cards, jewelry, and stuffed animals catch the shopper’s eyes, as do dozens of heart-shaped candy boxes; delectable chocolates in various sizes, some with nuts, some without and others with fruity fillings. While choosing a sentiment for your sweetie, odds are good you’ll gift him or her with a box of Russell Stover Candies, the largest producer of boxed chocolates in the United States.

Russell Stover

Russell Stover was born May 6, 1888 in Alton, Kansas. His parents had moved to Alton from Iowa to Kansas to seek a fortune, but returned to Iowa to farm after a Kansas drought. As a young man, Stover attended Iowa City Academy. From there he went to the University of Iowa to study chemistry. He left the university after one year and moved to Chicago to earn a living as a salesman. His first endeavor was with a candy company. His second job was with the American Tobacco Company. It was right before he made his move to Chicago that he met Clara Lewis at a sweet shop.

Clara Stover

Clara was born in 1882 and grew up on a farm near Oxford. As a young woman, she borrowed money from a neighbor to study music at Iowa City Academy. She had seen Russell around campus, noting he was tall, with blue eyes and a winsome smile, and thought he was an industrious student.

Russell and Clara hit it off from the beginning. Each were big dreamers, and after a courtship, they married June of 1911. One of their wedding gifts was a farm in Canada, but growing wheat in Saskatchewan didn’t pan out for them, so they moved to Winnepeg and began a candy-making business in their apartment. They moved back to the states in 1915 when rumors of an impending war reached them.               

Russell Stover turned to selling candy throughout the Midwest to earn a living. In 1920, he and Clara moved to Des Moines where he took a job as superintendent of Irwin Candy Co. The company failed and the court appointed Stover to run the company. He sold the assets to Graham Ice Cream Co in Omaha. He and Clara moved there, with Russell going to work for Graham Ice Cream.

In 1921, Stover met Christian Nelson, a school teacher and soda jerk who had the idea for a chocolate covered ice cream bar. Russell and Clara partnered with Nelson and eventually the Eskimo Pie was born. During this time, Clara continued experimenting with chocolate and sweet treats in her kitchen, perfecting her skills and recipes. Later, she and Russell sold their share in Eskimo Pie and started Mrs. Stover’s Bungalow Candies in Denver, with Clara as the president and secretary and Russell as vice-president and treasurer. They were a hit with the public and hired workers to help in their home before opening their first factory in Denver in 1925. A second factory opened in Kansas City in 1931, with Russell and Clara now making their home in Kansas City. The company struggled through the Depression and World War I. Russell and Clara lost much of their wealth, and in 1943, determined to rebuild and succeed again, they restructured the company to form a partnership with faithful employees. The company was renamed Russell Stover Candy, with Clara’s name being removed.  

     

Russell & Clara in younger years

During their long marriage, Russell and Clara had one daughter, Gloria. Russell died May 11, 1954 in Miami at the couple’s home. Clara died June 9, 1975 in Mission Hills, Kansas. She was 93. After Russell’s death, Clara managed the company until 1960, when Russell Stover Candies was sold to Louis Ward. In July of 2014, Swiss-chocolate maker Lindt bought Russell Stover Candies and remains the owner. 

Christmas on the Prairie

Every year at this time, my thoughts turn to the Christmas' portrayed in Little House On The Prairie.  Stores were miles away, and families took pride in handmade gifts.  I can picture Laura's face pressed against the foggy glass window of their shanty, looking out at the rapidly following snow.

In the corner of the house, always sat a small tree decorated with homemade objects like red berries and popcorn.  Imagine the time spent stringing those things.

Of course, stockings...real ones, not the fancy ones we use these days, were hung and that's usually where handmade scarves, hats, apples, oranges, or other treasures were placed.  There were no gayly decorated wrapping papers, so things to big to fit in the stocking, like a new shirt for pa, were wrapped in plain brown paper.  The real treats were the fancy supper fixins'.  

As you celebrate the holiday, think about how good you have it, and when you're buried in piles of colorful wrapping, think of Pa, Ma, Laura, Mary and Baby Grace.

Memories That Last Like Horehound Candy By Deborah Camp

Will the youngsters I know today have rich, heart-tugging memories of their Christmases past? I wonder.

Personally, the holiday memory clearest in my mind is when my parents illustrated that asking for a wristwatch at Christmas was a bit extravagant on my part. “Watches are expensive,” they told me, numerous times.

On Christmas I could hardly wait to open a long, rectangle box, knowing that it would be my very first wristwatch. Inside was a watch band. No watch. Just the band. Mother explained, “Maybe we can afford the watch next year. For now, we got you a band.”

Being a brave soldier, I held back tears, nodded, and told them I understood. Suddenly, Daddy said, “Okay, we’ve teased her enough.” Then he presented another wrapped gift. Inside this one was the watch that went with the band. I broke out in happy sobs. It was their way of teasing and teaching. They were making sure I treasured that watch because it was more money than they’d anticipated spending. I had that watch for years and years; lesson learned.

My parents told me of their treasured gifts as children, so vastly different from mine. An orange or apple along with a few pecans and a stick of horehound candy stuck into a sock – this was what delighted them and fueled their Christmas memories.

So, what memories will the youngsters I know have on which to reflect? Ski trips to luxury resorts where the room service was sub-standard? Only a dozen presents under the tree this year when last year they counted 15? When they had to spend the entire Christmas Day with their family instead of at the movies or mall with their friends?

A couple of years ago, I helped dish out turkey and dressing to the homeless on Thanksgiving Day and I had my eyes opened to how many children wander the streets with their moms and dads. Their Christmas memories align more closely with those of my parents. I saw their eyes light up when I mounded food onto their plates and I wondered if that same expression of wonder and gratitude could be witnessed on other children’s faces when they opened the tenth or eleventh gift on Christmas? I doubt it. Seriously, doubt it. Most of those gifts would be appreciated briefly and quickly forgotten.

Not like that stick of horehound candy received by my mother and father way back when. That stick cost a whole penny and it lasted for days – weeks! A penny well earned, well spent, and well appreciated. Plus, a memory to be passed down like a family heirloom that grows more valuable with time.

Deborah’s latest western romance is SOLITARY HORSEMAN, available on Amazon. You can find a complete list of her novels on her website, www.deborah-camp.com.

***Solitary Horseman is available for purchase at Amazon:

www.amazon.com/dp/B01HFCC2UQ

Christmas Traditions

Christmas is a magical time of year. Children are overly giddy with excitement and impatient for the big day to arrive. Adults are frazzled, rushing from store-to-store in search of the perfect gift, or the most popular gift that no one seems to have one more in stock, including Amazon. Delicious aromas of cookies baking in the oven waft through the home. Lights twinkle from windows and rooftops. An angel, or a star, sits atop a Christmas tree. Family and friends gather for a feast, which leads to New Year's resolutions of going on a diet. I've often wondered if our fore-fathers felt this same kind of insanity and gaiety, but rather blog about them, I thought I'd use this column for you to become more acquainted with me.  

 

I love Christmas. I have ever since I was a kid, though if you ask my son, he'll tell you differently. The first words that'll probably come out of his are: "Mom can't wait to take down the tree and put it back in the box." While that might be true, (and it's because I'm the one who ensures the branches, ornaments and lights are packed away neatly) I do enjoy watching my son open his gifts Christmas morning. But before that day arrives, there are many other holiday traditions that I enjoy.   

 

Back when I was a child, I had fun opening presents with my brothers and sister, oohing and aahing over what everyone got, visiting relatives and then returning home for an Italian dinner of lasagna. A few days later, we'd load up the car and drive to my grandparents' house in New York City, celebrating both Christmas and New Year's Eve with them. Gram and Gramps lived on the first floor and my aunt and uncle on the second. Gram would cook a German meal and then we'd go up to my aunt and uncle's for a spell to celebrate the holiday. Somewhere during that time, Mom and Gram would sneak down to Gram's, arrange presents under the tree and then Gram would ring a little bell for us to return to her home. We'd open presents, have dessert and watch the ball drop in Times Square. The following morning it was time to return home. For me, this tradition lasted until I married and moved away. For the rest of the family, the tradition remained until Gram passed away.

 

 

As parents, the hubby and I have made our own traditions that, hopefully, our son will look back on with fond remembrance. As a mom, I have my own traditions to keep me sane throughout the season; the first being I do the bulk of my shopping before Black Friday. I hate crowds, standing in long lines and rushing. Once Thanksgiving has past, the tree goes up and the lights are strung on the house--a family activity that is usually done the day after Thanksgiving. Then I take a day when the kiddo is in school and wrap everything. (Again, I hate doing something last-minute. I once put together a drum set on Christmas Eve and never again.) Sometime during the weeks leading up to Christmas, we pick a night to make hot cocoa, pile into the car and go out looking at Christmas lights. As a family, we decide what to have for the Christmas meal and then, in a blink of an eye, it's Christmas Eve. We attend the children's mass at church, where the pews are over-flowing with people and the altar is aglow in candlelight. Even if you're not religious, this is one evening when you can literally feel the spirit of the season. Our last traditions consist of a light supper on Christmas Eve, to be followed by the kiddo waking us up at 5:30 Christmas morning and racing us down the stairs, with the dog squeezing past, eager to get to her stocking.    

 

While our fore-fathers didn't rush to the store, or drive around town looking at Christmas displays, I do envision them as having enjoyed this time of year, of having felt the wonder of the season and their hearts softening as they watched their children's faces light up in awe over something left for them beneath the tree.

Merry Christmas, Everyone! Enjoy the magic of the season!

 

Note: The Christmas tree in the picture is my current tree. The previous one had special meaning to me. It belonged to my grandparents. When Gramps died, Gram gave the tree to my husband and me. We had it for 10+ years, until the day the dog knocked it over, breaking it close to the top and a few of the ornaments. The best we can figure is he was asleep on the couch when someone rang the doorbell. Being the great guard dog he was, he knew he had to get to the window and bark, and didn't care that the tree was in his way.